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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596330">A Magic on Its Own</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codadilupo/pseuds/Codadilupo'>Codadilupo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last Unicorn (1982), The Last Unicorn - All Media Types, The Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I needed to amuse myself, Mild Smut, SMUUUUUT, Shameless Smut, Smut, Smut smut smut and smut, but this time is more subtle, schmendrick and molly going at it again, still too embarrassed to post the porny stuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:13:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codadilupo/pseuds/Codadilupo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Seriously, its just an introspection for its own sake on these two getting it on, I do not know how else to sum this up...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Molly Grue/Schmendrick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Magic on Its Own</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I went a little too dark with my last fiction, so I needed something lighter. What better than Molly and Schmendrick mingling limbs?! A little smutty, but you definitively understand what's going on (I'm not ready to post the pornier stuff, yet), just for fun.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had a magic on its own, no doubt about it. Despite still to this day Schmendrick would have unceremoniously snorted a laughter in the face of someone mentioning love charms, with the very same sentiment he would have scoffed at someone who claimed to see the future, he could very easily recognize the peculiar, unique hint of magic that permeated it.</p><p>There was a kind of magic in the way it usually started – maybe it was the unpredictability that made him think so, but what would you know? It could be a quick glance across the room while Molly was busy writing, and he was reading, him discretely clearing his throat while riding along a path in the woods… Or it could be Molly – the ever-practical and brisk Molly – approaching him from behind and giving him a long, unmistakable lick on the neck. And to hell with all his pretensions of romantic wooing! One lick, and there you have it. The magic of the right touch at the right time, of one single look, of one soft chuckle and a joke, and their clothes vanished – more precisely, they would just be scattered on the floor in a trail usually leading to the comfort of a bed, be disorderly piled up behind a curtain of lush vegetation far from prying eyes. Ah, the old, ever-reliable ceremonials revolving around nudity and corporeity…</p><p>As someone who relied extensively on his hands and mouth while casting spells, Schmendrick was aware of how many things one could do with them and what reactions of cause-effect they could arouse. The fundamentals were the same: right gestures, perfect pacing and timing, a good dose of stamina and focus on the rather amusing reactions those special attentions could provoke in Molly, sometimes consisting in a kind invitation to “put his mouth to better use, instead of smirking like a dope.” Sometimes that alone was enough for them to feel satisfied, sometimes not, and, of course, parts of their body normally left out from more conventional mystical practices were involved.</p><p>Molly would have cast her own spell on him, as the ultimate outcome, often consisting in the reiteration the word “More” in a purring, alluring voice that left Schmendrick no choice but to oblige her, entranced, a pliable slave to her amorous traps. He had always suspected that Molly must have some magic powers still unexplored, to be honest… The very same magic would have made Schmendrick utter words of devotion and eternal affection, mixed with her name, in a crescendo leading to a moment that felt like a crack in time and space during which there was only them, no one and nothing else around them, a moment which he wish could never end. As it had begun, though, their charm had to finish, in spite of him obstinately repeating that nothing ever ended.</p><p>But then, as they lie down, exchanging what Molly humorously referred to as ‘courtesies,’ Schmendrick always remembered that that particular magic was simply dormant and hadn’t truly ended. It was just there, waiting, ready to leap out and bend them to its will once again.</p><p>“What’s that you said?” Molly said, raising her head from his chest.</p><p>“That I was once again right, and nothing really ends,” Schmendrick kept on staring at the ceiling, distractingly playing with Molly’s locks.</p><p>“Are you daft?” was Molly’s baffled reply. How sometimes her companion could come up, entirely out of the blue, with absurd sentences utterly disjointed from the context, she would never understand.</p><p>“Maybe. Or maybe I’m overthinking. Doesn’t matter. I’m happy,” he snuggled against her, softly smiling at her grumpy mumbling. “I’m happy.”</p>
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